


with plans, with you

by queerofcups



Series: love love love (love love) [10]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Homophobia, M/M, Punk, Slurs, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 10:22:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9651731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queerofcups/pseuds/queerofcups
Summary: I can’t get any work done I just think about you all the time.Punk!Dan, MusicJournalist!Phil





	

**Author's Note:**

> So despite the tags this is a pretty happy/hopeful fic! So if you're looking at the tags a little wary, I can promise that there's no physical violence and I chat a little bit at the bottom notes about the transphobia tag.

 “Alex, seriously, what the fuck,” Dan asks, walking through the beaded curtain that hung in the door way of the tattoo artist’s room. He brandishes the magazine with Alex’s interview in one hand, and a tray populated by Starbucks drinks in the other.

Scruff, the tattoo artist in question, doesn’t move. He’s more than familiar with Dan and Alex bursting in on each other’s section. He continues coloring in the outline of a zinnia on Alex’s rib. Alex looks up, rolling their eyes at Dan.

“I’ve literally been here since this morning, what’d I do?”

Dan hands them the drink they asked him to pick up on the way and sits in the chair on the other side of the tattoo chair.

“I don’t know,” Dan says, reading Alex’s quote in his best Alex voice. “We just don’t really wanna be a queercore band, or riot grrl or whatever. It’s just like, as soon as you say you’re one of those things, that’s _all_ you can be.”

Alex’s breath hitches and Dan can’t tell if it’s from being reminded of their dumb ass quote or because Scruff’s getting right on top of a rib.

“What about it?” They ask, a little breathless.

“They’re going to call us sellouts?!” Dan’s gone shrill. He knows he’s gone shrill. “We _are_ a queercore band? We’re all queer? Half of us are trans? Al, what’s the plan here?”

Alex groans a little, pushing their hair back out of their face and rubbing at the short, shaved side. They’re wearing one of their ugly pentagram bras and jorts and Dan can remember a time when he wouldn’t have been able to look away from them, wondering if it’d hurt their side too much if Dan convinced them to fool  around right after they got tattooed. Now, he’s just annoyed at his best friend torpedoing any cred they may have built up in the scene.

“I _don’t_ want to be a queercore band, love.” Alex says. “Scruff, break?”

Scruff grunts and stops. “Was just about to take one. You need anything before I leave?”

Scruff’s American and sort of terrifying looking, even for a tattoo artist, but he’s always been gentle with Alex and never got anyone in the band’s pronouns wrong. Dan gets him a Christmas gift every year.

“Ok,” Alex says once Scruff’s left. The colors of their tattoo are surprisingly bright on their dark skin, shiny with ink and tender looking.  “Look. Shit’s happening, Bear. We’re getting hype. But as soon as they slap that shit on us, that’s all we’ve got. How much fucking queercore you listen to these days? Compared to punk? Or just rock? I want to make the music we make, not the music everyone’s expecting to hear.”

The thing about Men for Miles is they’ve just been fucking around for years now. Some kid uploaded a video to youtube that got some heat and suddenly they’ve got a record deal and have to explain to producers that yeah, their last bunch of songs were more punk but before that they’d been a pop punk band and Milo had been learning how to work a synth and playing with the idea of doing some electropop thing next. Hell, Men for Miles had only been their name for a few months. Before that they’d been A Barbaric Yawp and before that Internet Support Group and before _that,_ Three Months on T.

Dan understood why Alex was feeling squirrely, feeling the squeeze of a contract and a public expecting them to churn out a proper punk album when they were just kids fucking around in every genre they could learn to play in.

He sighs and stands up, leans over to kiss their cheek. “It was a fucked up thing to say, Al. We’ve got good friends in queercore bands. That’s our roots. Our _history_.”

Alex rolls their eyes, but grabs his hand, kisses his knuckles. “Fuck history,” they say blithely. “What the fuck does history mean to us?”

“Everything, you asshole.” Dan presses onto the tattoo on their shoulder, the heart and “D + B 4ever”. He has a matching one on his shoulder, under his jumper. “Ditz and Bear forever.”

They’d gotten them when they were eighteen and starting to figure out that puberty wasn’t the only reason they felt not-quite-right in their bodies. Dan hated the way men looked at him, expectantly, like they were wondering when he was going to stop fucking around and make somebody a good wife. And Alex, sweet like sugar and mad as hell, kept ramming against expectations of manhood and womanhood, tumbling out to neither at all. They’d gotten the tattoos to celebrate Dan getting his tits cut off, but they’d been planning it since they were kids in middle school, getting called dykes and asking if they were going to marry each other.

“Yeah, yeah,” Alex says, fighting a smile. “Ditz and Bear forever. Fuck off, let me finish my tattoo.”

Scruff is back, drying his hands off on a paper towel. He tells Dan, “There’s brownies out front, made ‘em for my kid’s class but there were way too many. Vegan ones in the blue container.”

Dan grins, “Thanks, man. I’ll grab one on my way out.”

“Ooh,” Alex says, grinning. They shift back onto their back so Scruff can get to her side easily. “Are there any special ones? You know I’ve got a great story of the last time Bear at some special brownies.”

Dan rolls eyes. “Leaving now. Before the fucking stories start. Band practices tomorrow.”

“Yeah, fuckin’ yeah.” Alex says, sipping at her frothy ass Starbucks cup of syrup. “I’ll call you later. Love you and shit.”

“Love you and shit,” Dan says back, pushing back through the beaded curtain.

\--

Dan’s standing outside their practice space, waiting for Milo to finish his spliff. Kashiff was inside already, warming up. Dan could hear his drumming through the walls.

“I mean, I get what they’re saying, to a degree,” Milo says, offering Dan a hit. Dan takes the spliff. “The whole riot grrl thing was really American, not really _our_ history.”

Dan waves a hand. “Doesn’t matter. We stand on their fuckin’ shoulders. Al shouldn’t shit on that.”

“What Al should do,” Alex says, rounding the corner. They’re wearing the same jorts from yesterday, and a croptop showing off their shiny new tattoo like it’s not October in London. “Is tell you that we’ve got an interview with fucking NME.”

“What,” Milo says, standing up straight. “Fucking what?”

Dan picks Alex up and spins them a few times. “NME? Fucking NME. Oh god, we’re going to be such rich fucking sell outs.”

“I know!” Alex says, Milo cheering in the background. Kashiff comes outside, asking what all the ruckus is about. “They want to interview us for their most anticipated up and comers list? We’re about to fucking make it!”

Dan laughs, delighted. Later, this will probably be another squeeze to the pressure they’re all feeling, but right now all Dan feels is excitement.

“And,” Alex says, smirking. “They’re sending your boyfriend. The only dude at that whole rag that can write about bands with birds without talking about their tits? Ben? Connor?”

“Phil fucking Lester?” Dan asks, nearly dropping Alex. “Oh god, Al. He’s so smart. He’s so hot. I’m going to make an utter fool of myself.”

Alex stands up, raising an eyebrow. “Wow, you went all posh on us. You’re really into this dude?”

Dan groans, pressing his hands to his face. “He’s so _hot_ and everything he writes is so fucking right even when he’s wrong. You know he called Childbirth’s album immature? Fuck that guy, but also I want to fuck that guy.”

Alex, Milo and Kashiff are all watching him with varying expressions of amusement.

Kashiff shrugs. “This is cool or whatever, but we were supposed to start band practice like, ten minutes ago?”

They all trudge into their practice space, still chattering about the interview. It takes them a minute to calm down and get into their places. Dan’s strumming his guitar, waiting for Alex to finish their vocal warmups. Phil fucking Lester wants to talk to _them_. What could Dan even say that wouldn’t make him look like a complete berk?

“Bear?” Alex says like they’ve been saying his name for a while.

“Yeah?” Dan asks, shaken out of his thoughts.

“New lyrics?” Milo asks, swaying his bass back and forth.

“Right, yeah,” Dan says, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “I’ve got some new stuff for More Fertile than You.”

\--

Phil invites them to NME’s office but Alex refuses, insisting he meet them in their practice space, a week after he asks to interview them.

“You know he’s interviewed like, actual famous people, right?” Dan says, sprawling across the beat-up couch that usually lived under a pile of guitars, resting his head in Alex’s lap. “And you’re inviting him to our practice space slash Kashiff’s house?”

Alex shrugs and smacks him with the sleeve of their dress. Dan’s eighty percent sure this sweater dress is his actual sweatshirt that Alex hadn’t returned after their break up. In their defense, its wasn’t so much a break up as a mutual agreement that adding fucking to their friendship made it sort of uncomfortable to be best friends.

 “He knows we’re up and comers.” They say, tugging at one of the holes in their tights. “He’ll be charmed that our drummer was so dedicated he made his home space for us to practice.”

Before they decided to give the band a real go, Kashiff was the only one of them that had a music career, working as a touring drum tech. It made sense that he’d have his own space. It wasn’t even a bad space, Dan was just nervous about having Phil Fucking Lester here.

“Also,” Alex says, grinning. “Who gives a shit if he doesn’t like it. He’s just a dude.”

“A dude that’s here,” Milo says from across the room, where he’d been fucking with the drums. “Kashiff just texted, he’s bringing him down now.”

 

Phil Lester wasn’t just a dude. Phil Lester was an angel. He was way more pale than Dan had imagined, his eyes bluer. He towered over the rest of the band just as much as Dan did and he was surprisingly Northern, all his long vowels wrapping around Dan like a warm coat. His haircut was hipster appropriate and he was wearing a fucking spacecoat. Dan had mostly given up on blowing dudes he just met a few years ago (because they always wanted to return the favor and then things got awkward) but he was willing to reconsider for Phil. He was practically salivating and the whole band could tell.

“Hey!” Alex said, “Glad you made it!” They shove at Dan a little and he rolls onto his feet so they can stand. They get up and shakes Phil’s hand.

“I’m Alex,” They say, pointing to themself. “You can call me Alex. My pronouns are they/them/theirs. This is Milo, he/him or zhe/hir. You’ve met Kashiff, and this is Dan.”

They turn to Dan, who’s managed to get himself together enough to reach out to shake Phil’s hand.

“He, him.” Dan says firmly. This is his and Alex’s first test for anyone that meets the band the first time. They know what they look like. Both he and Alex are tall, mostly flatchested and come at androgyny from two different places. More than one “fan” has asked about Alex’s genitals, about why Dan still wears makeup occasionally if he didn’t want to quote “stay a chick”. Between him and Alex, they can sniff out a transphobe in less than five minutes. Milo and Kashiff claim to have seen them do it in less than ten words.

“Phil Lester,” Phil says, as if they don’t know. “He, him. Do people even know what you’re talking about when you do that?”

Dan tenses. Beside him, Alex takes a step back.

“It’s just,” Phil continues, “When I try and start meetings with pronouns at the office they look at me like I’ve lost it. And then they ask me why all the queer bands only talk to me.”

Alex giggles and flicks their hair out of their face. “Yeah, no. Mostly people don’t. We try to keep the ones who do around. I guess we’ll have to keep you, Phil.”

Phil grins at them brightly, then looks over at Dan. “Are you ok with keeping me?”

“Thrilled about it,” Dan says, surprised to hear his deep, hello-would-you-like-a-blow-job voice come out of his mouth. He hadn’t been planning to flirt with Phil before he even found out if he fancied men. Though, Dan can hardly imagine a straight man being so respectful and dedicated to covering queer artists.

Alex coughs to cover up a laugh. “Cool, so, interview?”

They actually end up playing a few songs for him first. They start with an older, poppier one that never got named then transition into Ugly Cherries, the song that went viral and got them here in the first place. Phil nods his head along and Dan almost misses a few notes during the breakdown when he realizes Phil is singing along to _his_ words.

They finish Ugly Cherries and Alex pauses to drink some water and turns to Dan, leaning against their mic stand. They’re breathing a little hard and their hair is all over the place and they’re glowing, like they always do when they’re having fun performing. Dan can’t help grinning at them and they grin back. When Dan looks, Phil is looking between them, obviously curious.

“Should we play Fertile?” Alex asks. Dan squirms a little. They’d officially called it finished a few days, but Dan hasn’t quite gotten enough psychic distance from it, it still feels too much like _his_ song instead of the band’s.

“Fertile?” Phil asks from his perch on the couch. “Am I getting a first listen to tracks from your new album?”

Dan still kind of wants to say no, except Phil is grinning at him, doing this bizarre little thing with his tongue and Dan really, really wants Phil to like him.

“Yeah,” Alex says, turning to look at Phil. “Exclusive first listen. It’s called More Fertile Than You.”

Phil laughs, obviously delighted with the title. “Now I’ve got to hear it.”

Alex glances at Dan, who shrugs, still looking at Phil’s smile. They launch into it. Dan plays and watches Phil nod along, taking a few notes. Dan could be imagining things, but he likes to think Phil’s eyes linger on him a little longer than everyone else.

When they finish, he tilts his head. “So, I take it there’ve been a lot of pregnancy scares among the band?”

Alex glances at Dan, who nods almost imperceptibly, and says. “Nope, just Dan.”

“Yeah?” Phil asks, turning to look at Dan.

Dan shrugs. “Before T, yeah. They knew me pretty well at the clinic. ‘s why I went off dick for a while.”

“Yeah, you did,” Alex says, winking at him.

“Huh,” Phil says, and Dan knows that voice. That is the voice of “I was interested in you, but then figured out what your deal was below the belt”. Dan fucking hates that voice.

Alex seems to pick up on it, juts their chin out a little. “We’re not afraid to talk about queer shit, or trans shit. Dan writes our lyrics, and that’s his life. If I was writing them, I’d probably write about genderqueer shit. Lalala fuck you, I’m not a ma’am.”

Phil nods, clearly unaware he’s in dangerous waters. “Right. I noticed that from your other music. And Ugly Cherries definitely gets into that territory. But I’m wondering why you refuse to call yourself a queercore band then?”

He says it with a smile, so it takes them all a second to realize he’s bumrushed them with the question Dan and Alex have been fighting about all week. Dan’s annoyed he’s let his crush stop him from realizing that this dude is mainstream and they need to be wary of him.

Alex launches into the same argument with Phil they’ve been having with Dan all week and Dan watches the real interview unfold. They don’t get play More Fertile Than You for Phil.

 

“Ok, but that dude’s a dick,” Dan says, watching Mario get hit by yet another blue shell.

“So you’ve said like twenty times since he left,” Alex says. They’ve somehow managed to beat Dan at every round of Mario Kart since they started, despite Dan being the undisputed king of the game.

“I can’t believe you invited him to our show tonight,” Dan mutters. He’s distracted, trying to figure out how he feels. Alex had loved Phil, even though he was kind of a dick and repeatedly implied that not wanting to be called queercore or riot grrl was them selling out. Fuck him, he works at _NME_. What does he know?

“Yeah, ‘cause he wants to bone you,” Alex says, cheating shamelessly by elbowing him.

“He really doesn’t,” Dan says, laughing and dropping his controller. There’s no way he’s going to end this round anyway. “Did you see his face after Fertile? Dude’s a transphobe. Was not down with another dude writing about getting pregnant at all.”

“Oh,” Alex says softly, turning to look at him. “Didn’t pick up on that at all. That dude’s a dick.”

Dan nods and sits back crossing his arms. “Fuck that guy.”

+++

Dan forgets that Alex invited Phil to their next show until Phil shows up during soundcheck. Dan has not had enough beer for his former crush slash actually a transphobe to watch him fuck up songs because he’s still not used to being in venues bigger than some friends living room.

Alex, sweet Alex who’s never encountered the word subtle, frowns and says into the mic. “Oh, look. It’s the transphobe.”

Phil looks taken aback. _Good_ , Dan thinks viciously, then turns to Alex. “We’ve really got to talk about you not using the mic to _literally_ call out people.”

Alex shrugs, unabashed.

“Can we talk?” Phil asks, coming up to the stage. Dan makes a face at Alex, who makes a face back, nonverbally offering to come with him, or possibly punch Phil in the face. It’s always hard to tell with Alex.

“Fine,” Dan says, uncomfortably aware that even if they don’t like him now, Phil still has the power to make or break this band. He hops down from the stage, gives his guitar to one of the techs standing nearby with a ‘thanks’.

He follows Phil out of the bar, pulling the sleeves of his jumper down.

“You have really nice tattoos,” Phil offers once they’re outside. It’s chilly out, the fingers of winter piercing through Dan’s jeans. “The one on your forearm with the flowers is really, um. Pretty.”

Dan rolls his eyes. “They’re zinnias. To match Al’s. What do you want?”

“I think I might have given you the wrong impression?” Phil offers. “I’ve been told I can be kind of flirty, which I might have been with you? I realized it and then stopped. I try not to flirt with people in front of their partners. So. I’m sorry. And I can tell Alex I’m sorry, too.”

“Alex isn’t my partner,” Dan tells him. “Not for years. They are my best friend, though, and friends don’t let friends date transphobic assholes.”

Dan watches Phil repeat him, frowning.

“I’m not…I try not to be any kind of -phobic, really.” Phil’s brow is furrowed. “I think it’s amazing that you’re writing about your past like that. I’m sorry if I made you or Alex uncomfortable. Or any of the band!”

Dan chews his bottom lip, knocked off kilter. Phil’s definitely rambling, but Dan’s still processing the part where Phil’s apparently into him. And also, might not be a transphobe. He sizes Phil up. “You gotta get better about the face you make when a dude tells you about his pregnancy scares.”

“Done,” Phil says, nodding. His eyes are dragging over Dan, taking him in. “The next time a hot guy sings me a song about how fertile he is, I’ll be all smiles.”

Dan rolls his eyes and holds his hand out. “I’m trusting you this one time. Fuck up and you’ll never interview a queer band ever again. Phone.”

Phil hands him his phone dutifully and Dan nods and says, “I like a man who can take orders.”

Phil grins, doing the tongue thing again. “I like a man who gives good orders. What are you doing with my phone?”

“Following myself on twitter for you,” Dan says, tapping on Phil’s phone.

“I already follow you on twitter,” Phil counters, seeming unconcerned about the relative stranger doing things on his twitter.

“You follow the band twitter, that we take turns running,” Dan counters, looking up his personal account and hitting the follow button. His own phone vibrates in his pocket. “Now you follow me.”

Phil nods and takes the phone back. “Pleasure to follow you,” he glances down at the phone, “Danisnotonfire?”

Dan shrugs. “It’s an old screen name. There’s a youtube channel floating around of me doing shitty Dashboard Confessional covers.”

Phil’s eyes crinkle a little when he laughs his weird, breathy laugh.

“I gotta go,” Dan says, gesturing toward the venue. “I’ll see you later?”

“You will,” Phil says warmly.

Dan’s pretty sure he can still feel Phil’s eyes on him as he walks back in the venue.

 

They perform More Fertile Than You later that night.

Dan intros it while Alex is guzzling a bottle of water.

“This is ah,” he licks his lips, squinting against the lights on the stage. “This is called More Fertile Than You. It’s about getting pregnant a bunch of times. I used to be real good at that.”

The crowd _woos_ at him and he grins. “Take it away, Ditz.”

Alex drones the song and the crowds into it immediately, singing along by the second time they hit the chorus. Dan glances at the front row through sweaty, curling hair, and catches Phil, beaming and mouthing the words.

+++

The thing is, Dan’s flirted with dudes before. There’s the hey-you-want-a-BJ flirting that he’s mostly given up on, the hey-buy-me-a-drink flirting he’s needed less the more successful the band has become. There’s even hey-did-you-notice-I’m-with-the-band flirting he’s employed on a few bartenders at venues they’ve played at. He’s done very little of the type of flirting he’s doing with Phil.

He’d tweeted back and forth with @Phil_NME for a few days before getting a follow request from @AmazingPhil with the explanation that Phil didn’t necessarily want hundreds of people reading all their exchanges, winkey face.

Dan had consulted with the band about the winkey face on three different occasions before Kashiff had shrugged and suggested that it meant Phil wanted to bang him.

And here he is now, sitting in the airport next to Alex about to board a plane for a short American tour that they’re the openers for. He’s not sure which one is less stressful to think about: Phil or their slow but steady rise to _something_.

Alex pushes their obnoxiously large sunglasses on top of their head to look at him. They’re clearly feeling androgynous today, hair tucked into a beanie and wearing loose jeans that might have been Dan’s in a past life. It makes Dan want to tuck them under his arm, so he does. Alex goes easily, cuddling close. Dan opens snapchat, takes a picture of them and sends it to the band’s account. On a whim, he saves it and posts it to their twitter as well.

“Careful,” Alex says, opening their obnoxiously large bottle of water. “Your boyfriend might get jealous.”

“He knows we’re not together,” Dan murmurs, refreshing his feed. “Also, not my boyfriend.”

“He wants to be,” Milo says. Dan had mostly forgotten he was there, he’d been quiet for so long. He’s a nervous flyer, has been through a pack of gum already. They all were, for one reason or another. Kashiff had lead them all through breathing exercise this morning and would probably have them do one more before they got on the plane.

“He’s certainly taking his time,” Dan tells Milo, who shrugs.

“I hope he gets off his ass soon,” Alex says. “So our lyrics can stop being so fucking sappy. Seriously, Dan, ‘I can’t get any work done I just think about you all the time’?”

“You’re supposed to scream that part?” Dan offers weakly. His phone buzzes with a DM from Phil.

“Better be a dick pic,” Alex mutters, turning back to their own phone.

It’s not. It’s better. Dan copies the string of numbers and pulls up his contacts, adding Phil to his phone.

 _Hi_ , he sends.

 _Real privacy at last_ , he gets back almost immediately.

 _My bandmates are making fun of my lyrics,_ Dan tells him. _It’s your fault._

_Seems like something I should make up to you. Dinner when you get back to the country?_

Dan grins at his phone.

“You’re gonna say yes, right?” Alex asks, blatantly looking over his shoulder.

Instead of typing, Dan opens his camera, takes a picture of Alex and Milo, their heads perched on his shoulders.

He attaches it and types. _The council has approved your request._

Phil sends back a line of thumbs up emojis and then a selfie of himself, giving a thumbs-up.

+++

_Do you write all the lyrics?_

is this a follow up interview?

_No, that’s already been written up. It’s coming out in a few weeks. I just want to know more about you._

yeah. al tried to write lyrics once, but they all rhymed. it was really bad.

_And Mili and Kashiff?  
*Milo_

milo and al write all the music. kashiff helps me write. tells me when stuff is just sad and not funny.

 _I found your youtube_ _channel the other day_.

“found”

_It is linked in your bio._

it’s a good intro to my personality. dan: hot dude, formerly confused for a hot girl, has so many feelings only dashboard will suffice.

_Do you get scared?_

of being out? there are worse things. i’m more careful when we’re touring.

_I worry about you sometimes. How can you be more careful when you’re yelling about being trans every night?_

i mean, technically alex is yelling. are you suggesting i don’t? because that’s transphobe territory.

_No.  
I’m sorry. _

I wrote a song about you. Sort of.

_Sort of?_

It’s mostly about how government sucks. But you slipped in there?

_Yeah?_

yeah. i can’t get any work done I just think about you all the time.

_Wow_

yeah

_Can I call you?_

Yeah c:

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. So this fic feels a little risky to me, because I'm genderqueer, my partner's genderqueer, and I have plenty of genderqueer and transmasculine friends but I'm also not a trans dude. I've tried to be as respectful as possible while also being realistic but I'm definitely willing to have conversations, publicly or privately, if any of this hits you in a bad way.
> 
> 2\. Almost all of the bands and songs mentioned in the fic are real and mostly compromised of queer or trans people or ladies and you should go support all of them.
> 
> 3\. Also, does this feel more like snippets from a fic than a whole thing? lol, 'cause it is. I started writing and was like oh, no, this isn't going to stop. 
> 
> This is even more fake than normal.  
> Title and inspiration by Priests' No Weapon/Modern love


End file.
